


Intimacy at its Most

by Airy (hn209486)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 09:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3406028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hn209486/pseuds/Airy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malinche Levellan had never shared the same passion that others did, and figures that this time will be no different. Solas, again, proves to surprise her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intimacy at its Most

Malinche had never been driven in… that direction, so to speak.  
  
She had faced courters. As future head of the family, she was expected to marry at  some point—and that she understood. She most definitely meant to marry. The idea of companionship had always warmed her heart. It was the whole… children part. She had dreamt of having children when she was a little girl. Taking care of her younger brother, Luthian, had ensured her of that—yet… once she had grown older, and discovered just what having a child _entailed_ , it had quickly became a game of pretending that such actions even interested her.  
  
The short end of the stick was that they didn’t.  
  
She had tried. An elven boy, who she had escaped into the woods with. His lips on her neck had made her skin crawl. Not that she was repulsed by it, because kissing him was fun and good, but because it just did nothing for her, and that scared her. A human, a travelling merchant with devilish good looks who made her stomach flip flop in a way that gave her hope—turned out it was nothing more than her mind going _he is very striking looking._ Even a woman at one point, an elven girl of their clan who was perhaps too young for her in the first place—too young, too eager too please the higher ups. Turned out gender wasn’t the issue.  
  
The inquisition had chased all worries out of her mind. When you become branded to save the world, certain things such as sex life and marriage and bearing children were not at the top of your mind—that was, until Solas invaded her dreams.  
  
She hadn’t _meant_ to kiss him. Something had compelled her, however. Maybe it was his vast knowledge of elven artifacts. Maybe it was his time spent in the fade. Maybe it was the fact that he had practically taken her on a date _in_ the fade, _in_ her dreams. Either way, she kissed him. At first, he had been entirely unreactive. His lips had stilled, his body had stiffened, and he had not moved. In fact, some charged warning had seemed to fill the air, causing her to turn away with an apology quick at her lips—she had not meant to be so _rash_ with her actions.  
  
Yet he had grabbed her and spun her and kissed her with something hungry and animalistic and it had made her stomach flip flop in that emotional way she had never felt before. She very well might have been starting to like him.  
  
They had discussed their relationship, and Solas had made it rather clear he intended to pursue it despite his better reasoning. So far, nothing had come of it, but anything could happen, and Malinche had found herself with her guard raised. She had whispered about her worries to Dorian. How she expected Solas would lose all interest when he discovered she wasn’t interested in _that_ side of things. At least, she didn’t think she was.  
  
“You honestly just have to stop _thinking_ it—you act like it’s the end of the world—“ The leaves rustled around them, elven ruins capturing the blue skies in their stones. She loved this place, but Dorian’s rather harsh words put a scowl on her face.  
  
“As if it has ever been that easy for me. I am not a _virgin_ , I have a fair idea of what I do and do not enjoy, and that has always happened to be a part of it.” Dorian’s scoff made her scowl worse, but she knew he only kid. He had, on many occasions, proved to be more than understanding of her situation—even now, he proved more considerate, a firm hand helping push her up the rocky outcrop as they moved towards the goal and into a small clearing.  
  
“Who knows! Maybe the devilishly handsome man with spark a fire of desire in your cold, stone heart! His smirk and flowing locks—“ 

“Oh, be quiet—“  
  
From behind them came the sound of a huffing Cassandra, who had gotten her ear talked off by Solas by now, about the elven artifacts around them and the ruins and the history of the place. The air practically crackled with it, of lost lives and even more lost tradition. A statue of Fen’Harel imposed the clearing, casting a long shadow as it watched them approach.  
  
Cassandra’s voice made it clear she was more than ready to get away from the apostate of the inquisitor’s troubles, “ _This_ seems like a _lovely_ place to set up _camp_ , don’t you think, inquisitor?”

The look on Malinche’s face made the warrior uncomfortable—she could obviously tell that Malinche was almost tempted to keep going and prolong her torture, but the elven woman finally laughed, “I believe so. We’ll need time to set up a proper camp.”  
  
Dorian huffed, “The land here is absolutely atrocious. I will be sleeping with a kink in my back for _weeks_ —“

* * *

 

Night fell quickly henceforth, and the caravan caught up with them as the fire sent sparks crackling into the air. The sound of wolves echoed in the distance, but everyone seemed at ease except for her. Her stick probed the fire harshly, making it crackle and roar higher. The rations had left her mouth-tasting dry, and even her water pack didn’t relieve it. She almost considered going to bed—Dorian had already promised to share a tent with her, and perhaps she would feel less muddle minded in the morning—

A hand on her shoulder made her jump.  
  
“May I steal you away, inquisitor?” Solas’s voice had been one of the first things that got her. When he had grabbed her hand and lifted it to the fade, it had sent a fire along her arm. Yet when he spoke to her afterwards, that’s when she realized just how much trouble she might be in. This was no different. As she looked up at the apostate, she could see Dorian’s inquiring eyes watching them over the fire. He had grown rather protective of her, she found.  
  
Malinche rose to her feet, managing a small, if tired, smile, “I told you to call me by my name, Solas.”  
  
“My apologies, Malinche. Again, if I may steal your time, I believe there is an old elven shrine nearby…”  
  
That sounded all too intriguing, and her worries put to rest for the moment, she followed after the man. This was no fade dream, and that gave her some confidence. Besides that, Solas had never seemed interested in furthering their physical relationships. The kisses had been driven—fun—but they had never lead to anything more. His hands did not wander, and the most she had gotten was his wolf jaw pressing harshly into her chest when he had kissed her against his desk. She had gotten more than enough abuse from Dorian over that one.  
  
They walked in silence, and Malinche found that the shrine was near the river. A statue of Falon’Din had been left forgotten in the dark, weeds growing around her serene form and old bottles and pots that had once contained offerings long since looted and forgotten. Malinche found herself drawn to the tall, comforting god, placing a hand on her stone arm and looking up at the face.  
  
“My tattoo’s are meant to represent her—my mother always told me stories of her grace and kindness to our people…” Malinche found herself smiling, but Solas’s silence made her turn, finding that his face looked trouble. When he saw she was looking, his features softened back to their usual warmth.  
  
The apostate stepped forward, reaching up to brush away some of the greenery that was trying to climb into the cracks of the statue. His hand fell down to grip hers lightly, fingers pressing into her palm and his smile making her cheeks warm. Malinche swore in her head, a string of curses most humans would not even know—it was best not to say them out loud around the apostate. He did _not_ appreciate her foul mouth.  
  
“Falon’Din was by far one of my favorite… gods. She was said to counsel us on our paths to death, and I… liked to think that she was a gentle being…”  
  
“A true shame that she was locked away…” Malinche’s voice was soft in the chilled air, and if she had not spoken, she would have heard the soft sigh the man gave. She did, however, notice how his hand tightened marginally on hers, and turned to look at him. His eyes seemed dark, but his lips were still slightly tilted up in that smile she liked to see.  
  
“Let’s not think about such negative things tonight.” He leaned forward, and before she could say something he had kissed her, softly, against Falon’Din’s statue and with his body blocking any means of escape and the moonlight that fell through the branches above them. She would be lying if she didn’t find this romantic, or pleasing. It made her stomach flip, and she knew easily enough that she could kiss him like this for as long as she wanted, which is hand tangled in her brown hair and his other supporting them both against the statue of the death god.  
  
He’d always seemed so hesitant. Always ready to pull back at a moments notice. Always reluctant to push for more in their relationship, but for once he let himself kiss her without restraint, and when his hand slid marginally lower, it wasn’t him that pushed away, but her. With her hands against his chest, she softly parted them.  
  
Her sigh made his face appear confused, and her voice sounded awkward—she couldn’t help stuttering, “I—I’m sorry—It’s just—I don’t think it’s fair to you—“  
  
“At peace, vhenan, what troubles you? Have I done something…?”  
  
Incredulous, she shook her head. He was always too good. Too… kind. He had his faults. His opinions of the Dalish made her stomach hurt sometimes, and he could be much too harsh to the other companions when they said something he disagreed with, but… “Never! You couldn’t have—it’s all me—it’s my head—I’ve never been—“  
  
“Ah.” His lips tilted up, and his hand slid from her hip to her waist, before tugging her in to hug her against his chest. Confusion made her lips tremble, but his words truly sent her head reeling, “I understand, vhenan.”  
  
“You—what?”  
  
He chuckled, deep and low, and she felt it in her body as well as heard it as he stroked her hair once, “I cannot say that I am all seeing, but Cole did tip me off that this relationship might be physically lacking in the regard of, well, sex. You have been worrying over it, and he knew.”  
  
Her cheeks flared red, and Malinche could have went and swore at the spirit, but instead she sighed, finally returning the hug, “I’ve just never understood it, or felt it. I enjoy kissing you—too much. I would like to do more of that—or hold you—or just be with you—but I don’t.”  
  
“I understand, vhenan, and know I will never pressure you. Your company is simply enough for me.”  
  
Somehow, in the night air, she realized just how deep she was getting in—and that maybe she was finally finding someone else she could be with.  
  
And it made her warm inside.


End file.
